


the games we play (lace my evenings with your affinity for competition)

by skree



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, RageHappy, and so much sexual tension it's ridiculous, and uh, endless banter, it's horrendously difficult to make a suit unattractive though, joelay - Freeform, let's be honest here, maid!AU, maid!kink, oh and texting, oh god it finally happened, suit!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skree/pseuds/skree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joel finds himself becoming more and more unavailable to keep his life and his house kept together, so he enlists some help from someone that might just be a little more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. new file? [y/n]

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea was born during a late night insanity session with the queen of several kinks (and my heart) over the summer, but work and school and everything else managed to keep me from completing it. It eventually turned into this, and the word count is mildly terrifying to say the least. 
> 
> (that's all I've got, I don't even have anything to say for myself, don't talk to me and especially don't look at me like that)

Ray stood outside the house, glancing from the address scrawled at the top of the clipboard to the polished brass numbers nailed to the doorframe. This was his last job of the day, and since it was a Friday, he knew his boss expected him to blow through the job in anticipation of the weekend.

Which he risked doing, honestly, because the week had been long and he had heard his bed sending him love calls since Tuesday afternoon.

But instead, here he was. He needed the pay and had agreed to work some of the overtime jobs, so he supposed he had it coming. He’d been sent on his way on the promise that this client had simple requests, just didn’t have enough time to do easy cleaning on their own and requested assistance for a few hours on Friday afternoon so he could get through the weekend stress-free. Or at least, that’s what the summary of the phone call with the guy indicated.

He raised his hand to knock, rapping three times and glancing anywhere but the door. He didn’t really like introductions, and was minutely concerned that this particular resident would either breathe down his neck for the entire job or would talk him to death. The nature of his work generally created an environment that was most productive in silence, but he was adaptable so long as the subject matter remained interesting. Otherwise, it dragged on forever, and Friday afternoons were the last day that needed to last an eternity.

When he’d told his friends that he’d landed a job with a home cleaning service, the jokes wouldn’t stop coming in for weeks. He’d told them that it was light years in difference from the ideas from 19th century France that were inevitably seared into their minds, that no, as a matter of fact, he  _didn’t_  fritz around with just a broom and a skimpy apron to his name, but they’d just laughed it off and told him they weren’t ones to judge. Fuckheads.

And it really was exceedingly normal, for what it was. Being a housekeeper just meant he could put his need to always be doing something to good use, and it was slightly more geared toward his personal taste in careers than anything he found described on Craigslist. One of his family friends owned a branch of the local cleaning service and was happy to hook him up with the job once he heard he was looking for work, and was generous enough to offer hours that accommodated his schedule. After a month or so, he’d actually found that he was pretty good, and the pay was better than good, so he’d stuck with it and found that most people took a progressive attitude and praised him for his drive.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door that pulled him from his thoughts, and watched the door swing open. Dark eyes met his own, beneath a mess of tangled black locks that looked like they’d been styled by a thunderstorm, and a moment passed after their eyes met before he finally spoke.

“You guys are troublingly punctual.”

He was taller than Ray, not tall enough to tower over him but enough to where his line of sight would’ve just graced the top of Ray’s head. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp – not angry, and in fact rather gentle, just focused.

“Oh, uh… well, I can come back fashionably late, if it suits you better.”

The guy shook his head, and opened the door, stepping out of the entryway. “No, no, it’s fine. Great, actually.” He gestured for Ray to come in, slipping back in the house to switch on a light. He held the door for Ray, who nodded his thanks and marched inside.

“And I’m sure you get plenty of neuroticism as is from the, uh, more unconventional people you must clean up after.”

Ray snorted at that, wandering down the hallway into the house and turning to face the owner once inside. “You have a very diplomatic way of saying totally batshit,” he affirmed, flashing a grin as the guy snickered at him.

“Well, I was avoiding it, but… yeah.” He shut the door with a click, moving past Ray as he padded down the hall. “And don’t worry,” he called back, “I don’t have eighteen deadbolts, much less any majorly debilitating issues, as far as we’re aware.” It was Ray’s turn to chuckle, following the man into the light of his living room.

Ray was surprised, to say the least. It was a fairly nice, moderate-sized place, far enough from the city to be quaintly peaceful but close enough that it wouldn’t take long to get through rush hour traffic and come back home. And honestly, it was in pretty good condition – there were no screaming children, no dogs pawing at his knees, and no cans littering the floor. Generally, the customers he’d been acquainted with had been soccer moms bent out of shape over their kid’s latest adventure, or hung-over fraternity brothers gearing up for another party that night, but though he had no idea how old this guy was, there wasn’t a clue in sight that anyone else lived in the house but him.

That was another thing – this  _guy._ Ray had always been open to letting his eyes (you want to get mushy, fine, his  _heart_ ) dictate his preference, generally refusing to put a title on his tendency to pursue what he liked rather than picking one gender and sticking with it through thick and thin – some might call it noncommittal, he considered it picky for the right reasons rather than the stupid ones – but the point was that he caught himself looking at the way this guy smiled and had to snap himself out of lingering on it.

He was brought back from his thoughts, however, when the man shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry, I honestly have no idea how this sort of thing works,” he confessed sheepishly, scratching his head. “I do the cleaning myself, but work has been hectic recently and if I wait any longer to do something about this,” gesturing to the room around him, “I’ll drive myself crazy. Well, crazier.” He ran a finger across the mantle nearby and scowled at the layer of dust that stuck to it.

So Ray smiled, and handed him the clipboard. “Just fill out the form, and I’ll do the rest.”

The guy returned the smile with one of his own after his fingers curled around its edge. “I’m Joel, by the way,” he said quickly after a momentary silence, extending a hand.

Yeah, something about that smile warmed him straight down to his toes.

He watched his mind reboot behind the reflection of his eyes in Joel’s after a moment’s pause, shaking himself back to reality quick enough to offer his own.

“Ray.”

Joel eyed him amusedly for a split second, vague traces of mirth seeping into his expression while his glance shifted from one eye to the other.

“You look relieved.”

Ray blinked. “Why, because you’ve never done this before?” He put his hands on his hips and flat-out scoffed. “And if you’re suggesting I should have been intimidated, well, just know I’ve got guns of steel hidden under this unimposing physical form.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Joel murmured, scrawling a hasty signature on the bottom of the form before placing it back in Ray’s hand. He didn’t catch the sarcasm until he caught the corner of Joel’s lips twisting up.

But before he could say a word, Joel had interrupted his own thought with a look of vague concern.

“So, uh, do you need me to leave? They say the chemicals used in cleaning carpets and windows are toxic if they’re breathed during a certain range of time after they’re sprayed, and legal obligations for you are no fun even if a customer wasn’t informed enough to be able to realize they could sue…” Ray made a face, rummaging through the basket of cleaning supplies at his feet and pulling out a spray bottle that donned a green label, tapping the side of the bottle with his index finger. “I definitely wouldn’t be spraying them if any of that were the case. I prefer quality of life to industrial-grade cleaning jobs. But my company’s got a sustainability policy anyway, so we use the environmentally friendly stuff. Makes people less freaky,” he said with a smirk, hints of laughter in his eyes as he watched Joel send a faint, sheepish smile back.

The next few hours flew by, and Ray didn’t even noticed until he caught the glow of the digital clock on the stove with a start at one point in the evening. Joel had situated himself wherever Ray happened not to be cleaning at the moment, and would dance out of his way without even being asked. They’d talked about everything from assholes in the checkout line to television programming, had a few conversations that prompted Joel to suggest continuing with scotch, and they’d laughed so hard at some points that the vacuum did nothing to drown it out. Usually, Ray tore through jobs as fast as his productivity would let him, but he found himself slowing down and paying attention to Joel as much as what he was really being paid for. Whenever he’d catch himself and speed up, Joel would always notice, and insist that he slowed down for the sake of the shine on his tabletops sticking around a little longer, if he really thought there wasn’t another excuse.

There absolutely was an excuse, though, as much as Ray didn’t want it to look like he had one. He honestly really enjoyed the sound of Joel’s voice and hearing what he had to say, because he felt like the field that conversation had laid out before them had been covered in snow, and the more he talked to the older man, the more footprints were created that exposed a little bit more of what was underneath without burning any scenery away, or allowing things to melt too quickly. He was finding all the similarities they’d unveiled really endearing, and somehow, it all registered in Ray’s heart to weigh just a little more than your average, everyday friendliness. Though every time he lingered on it too long, he’d convince himself it was a byproduct of the ammonia fumes.

The fact that Joel wasn’t staying out of obligation or paranoia made it all the more better, too. He recognized the fact that he didn’t know the man well enough to make that call, but his face was genuine, and the way he talked – and sometimes, the way he teased, but just for the sake of getting the Puerto Rican riled up – made Ray thrilled to talk back, sometimes leading to the friendly banter of arguments but other times leading to the younger man hinging on speechless due to the insufferable amount of wit this guy held in his unassuming posture. They’d had a debate over Joel’s preference for frigid temperature settings, because Ray was ‘so cold his limbs were going to fall off and he wouldn’t notice’, and Joel had just sat there and sneered until he eventually offered up a blanket, which escalated to a hoodie, but out of some (albeit perhaps misplaced) compulsion to puff his chest out and be a man, he declined.

So he’d laughed, and Joel laughed back, and when they kept laughing, even though things were entirely void of any obligation past that of work, it felt like they’d known each other far longer than a few hours.

He’d finally made it to the desk pushed in the corner of the living room, the desk whose looming presence had been staring him down menacingly the entire time due to the sheer ridiculousness of the clutter atop its surface (“seriously, Joel, it’s unhealthy to drown in work no matter what your pr- oh my god, are these  _graphs_?”), when Joel spoke up again.

“So, permission to open the floor for a personal question?”

Ray raised an eyebrow, looking up from the stack of papers inquisitively. “Granted.”

“How did you get started with this?” He’d blurted it out without really thinking about any potential to offend, and Ray could’ve laughed at the way he watched Joel silently kick himself for the belligerence.

But he grimaced, straightening the stack idly. “Motion to postpone that subject indefinitely. Trust me, it’s boring, you don’t want to hear about it.” Joel pulled up a chair, swinging a leg over the seat backwards and leaning on the frame. “No, really. As long as you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.” He tapped his chin with his thumb while he parsed a continuation of his thought, but a sudden realization made him retreat quickly. “Oh, uh, but I really can go and drop the subject, because I know that some topics spark unpleasant trains of thought and do more harm than help – not that I think you need help, I’m just curious, I just don’t want my curiosity to be prying into subjects you’re not comfortable discussing, and...” His face was half-shrouded by his arms, crossed over the back of his chair so only his eyes showed, but his look was sincere, though evidently frustrated with himself at first, and Ray really  _didn’t_  want him to go. So he plucked up a paper clip from amongst the files strewn about on the desk, and shook his head.

“Nah, dude, don’t worry about it. I’ve had a ton of pain-in-the-ass clients, talking to someone who doesn’t make me lose faith in humanity is like a paid vacation. Makes the time go by faster,” he added with a playful glance as Joel looked on.

“You call all your customers ‘dude’, or should I feel special?”

Ray didn’t miss a beat, smile tugging at his lips as he sifted through the remaining stacks. “You’re  _very_  special, dear, don’t worry.” Joel dropped his arms, and Ray caught the attention lingering in his eyes delightedly when he glanced up. “I’m more or less between jobs,” he continued, “and this was the first thing I could pick up because of my schedule. Oh, when I’m not working, I take classes from time to time, mostly to keep myself busy.” He frowned at a stain from a coffee mug on a folded newspaper and picked it up, emulating a librarian’s stern glare as he pointed at the dark ring. "Pro tip?  _Coasters_.” Joel rolled his eyes, standing to grab at the pages and chuckling when Ray drew back and batted his arm with it.

“Joel, you are literally paying me to clean, and I think I just finished. I think I can make it to the recycle bin.” The older man raised his hands in defeat as Ray snickered, slipping past him and pitching the paper at a green bin by the door.

“Jesus Christ, forgive me for not acting like a pretentious fucking douchebag.” He shook his head incredulously, glancing at Ray from his periphery with a smirk. “I’ll be sure to marshal you around on very stringent orders from here on out, if that’s really how you wanna operate.” His words were exaggerated, his tone even more so, and each syllable absolutely rolled off his tongue with little bursts of accentuated consonants, but Ray couldn’t help the breath that caught in his throat when those words hit his ears. Maybe he was imagining it, the taunting tone in his voice and the enthused glint in his eyes, but he was pretty sure it shouldn’t be making him swoon like a schoolgirl.

Oh, yeah. For the sake of simplicity, he was  _definitely_  imagining all that.

So he mustered up all the mastery of spoken language he could boast, and replied.

“Swearing is rude,” he teased softly, grinning as Joel almost went pink.

Well, he figured he would.

Instead, he turned, flicked his gaze up to Ray’s own, stayed right where he was, and spoke up without missing a beat.

“I’m not Emily  _fucking_  Post,” he replied sweetly, lazy grin creeping onto his face.

The conversation’s tone had definitely changed, and Ray felt the shift in the way his stomach flipped in the time it took for the words to leave his mouth and grace Joel’s ears.

“Shame on you. You might offend the weak of heart with a mouth like that.”

Thank god he didn’t stammer like his brain was skipping. He wasn’t sure if he really expected something else from the thoughts that were leaking out of his mind straight onto his tongue, but at that moment, the way Joel’s gaze snapped to his own felt like he’d let go of the leash on his logic. Joel waltzed straight up to Ray and got close,  _very_  close, and all but right up in his face before he replied.

“Is that supposed to mean  _you_? You poor, fragile creature.” His voice was low, nearly dripping in something a little darker than mere amusement, and his stare was piercing. Ray pulled his lip between his teeth, desperately willing away the heat flowing to his cheeks from staring straight back, but it was too late. Oh yes, Joel had definitely noticed, and the sneer gracing his features pointed it out like a searchlight.

So instead, Ray took a step forward, closer, eyes flashing in challenge.

“Hardly fragile, and I can  _definitely_  handle you.”

Joel’s tongue dragged across his lip from the corner of his mouth, a move filled to the brim with intention, and Ray subsequently reveled in the entire movement with his heartbeat in his ears.

“Yeah?”

“ _Fuck_  yeah.”

He’d hardly gotten the words out before there were hands grasping at his jaw, fingers tangled in his hair, and lips pressed against his own,  _hard_. Maybe he should’ve expected it, put one and two together when he got close enough to Joel to feel the heat rolling off his body, but he still made a noise of surprise he didn’t claim full control of that Joel was all too happy to devour.

He could’ve kicked himself for the way he all but turned to liquid in the older man’s arms from the way Joel kissed him, fierce enough to knock the wind out of him while still leaving room to leave him hungry for more. His tongue found its way to the soft curve of Ray’s lips and the Puerto Rican groaned airily through parted lips, fingertips finding their way to Joel’s clavicles and fanning across the warm skin before clenching in a tight grip of the fabric beneath.

He felt the smile against his lips and could’ve sworn the older man growled when he moved closer, gently pressing Ray’s spine to the wall behind them. In fact, all the air might as well have left his brain in the minutes that had passed as fast as it left his lungs, because Ray absolutely couldn’t do a thing to stop the contented sigh that escaped him when he snared his hand in dark hair as Joel’s hand moved to the back of his neck. His lips were sweet and his scent was making Ray delirious, and by the time Joel had gently pulled back, removing himself just far enough to be able to look at the sight before him, Ray had opened his eyes to be met with the enrapt look from before. This time, however, the pair of dark eyes that met his gaze were softer, bestowing a mix of faint surprise and perhaps even wonder in the place of challenge.

And if he didn’t speak up, Ray knew it’d make him grin like an idiot.

“You seduce all your housekeepers on their first few calls?” he mused softly, teasing tone overtaking the silence between them.

“Well, not on the first call.” Joel’s eyes sparkled with mischief as Ray all but gaped at him. “But if you’re concerned about it, I’ve actually never done it before.” Ray tipped his head back in thought. “Neither have I. You should feel special,” he teased, grinning as Joel feigned an overstated swoon. “Oh, Ray, I  _do_.” He snickered, shaking his head as Joel ran a hand through his hair, looking on contemplatively.

“And maybe you should, too, because it’s distinctly unlike me to kiss anyone goodnight.”

Ray didn’t have time to think up a clever response, much less a spoken response at  _all_ , because as soon as he processed exactly what it was Joel said, he had his hand fisted in the fabric of Joel’s shirt again and was pulling him close, pressing his lips against the older man’s and fighting a smile as Joel’s hand flew up to cup his jaw. When they parted, they didn’t move far from one another, Joel opting instead to rest his head against Ray’s brow as their lips just barely brushed each other. His voice was quiet when he spoke, more of a vibration and a breath against his lips than something audible, but Ray heard every word clear as day.

 

“Ray.”

“Mm?”

“Your name. It suits you, I like it.”

“How does it suit me?”

“I’m not poetic, so you’ll just have to trust me. It does.”

Ray smiled.

“And please, dear fucking Christ, don’t sue me for sexual harassment.  _Please_.”  
  
He couldn’t help the fit of laughter that ensued, laughter that tumbled from Joel’s lips reciprocally too. “I think  _I’m_  the one who would get in trouble for initiating anything,” Ray managed to get out, “you know, coming into your house and seducing you with my wiles…” He trailed off, laughter subsiding to but a warm grin. Joel snorted softly at that, murmuring a ‘yeah, right’ before tilting his head and just watching, eyes vaguely complacent. But Ray looked straight back, offering an accusatory “what?” that was perhaps a little more jokingly demanding than he’d intended. Joel raised an eyebrow inquisitively, moving his hand very purposely down Ray’s side to rest at his hip.

“Am I not allowed to look?”

“No. Look at the house, because I just made this ghastly living room deserving of the title ‘living’.” He stretched his arms out, resting them on the back of his neck as he flashed him a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah,” Joel agreed, voice bemusedly distant. “You did.”

They stayed like they were for a while, basking in the silence, until Ray finally spoke up again.

“So, since we’re done… you just need to sign one more form and you’re good, I think.” Joel nodded after a few seconds, untangling himself from around Ray to let him move toward the clipboard still resting on the counter. He fumbled around with the pen for a minute, gesturing for Joel to come over to the space beside him. “Sorry for all the paperwork, they take their dead trees very seriously,” Ray pointed out, handing him the pen as he approached. Joel took it in hand, inspecting the fine print carefully before moving to sign it.

He stopped short, however, drumming his fingers on the counter while his thumb on his other hand rested parallel to his jawline. Ray picked up his keys, glancing back at Joel when he took a breath to speak.

“So, let’s say I manage to royally fuck up your good work next week,” Joel began, eyes raised in thought, “and I’m not sure if I want to chance it with any of your cohorts.” He turned to look at Ray, a slight curve tugging at his lips. “How do I get in touch with you?”

“Well, the way this works is that if you want to continue service, you just need to check a box right  _there_ ,” he said innocently, pointing to the form and reveling in the way Joel rolled his eyes. His expression shifted to a knowing smirk in a split second, though, as he snatched the pen from Joel’s grip teasingly. “Of course, if you’re asking for my number, that’s something different.”

Momentarily speechless, Joel opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again in a smile that bore the white of his teeth. “Yes, I’m asking,” he said with a chuckle, as Ray shot him a facetiously unbelieving stare.

“You don’t say.”

“Shut up.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. Joel moved to retrieve his phone from across the room, but Ray’s hand flew out to catch Joel’s wrist before he was out of reach. He sent him a quizzical look, but Ray tugged at his wrist until he had it in his hand and held his palm in place. “Don’t let those eyes roll out of your head,” he murmured mockingly, inscribing the digits on Joel’s wrist in blue ink while Joel sighed heavily.

“Jesus, you really are an infant.”  
  
“Dude, how old are  _you?”_

“Another question for another day, I think,” he said quickly, smiling as he took the pen back from Ray, put an  _x_  in the appropriate box and a signature on the appropriate line, and placed the clipboard back in his hand. Ray nearly lapsed into hysterics, however, when Joel yanked his hand over and returned the favor, scrawling ten numbers on the inside of his arm and squinting at them momentarily to make sure they were legible enough.

When the two had straightened up and Ray had his supplies in hand, he turned one more time to face Joel.

“So, you want to make this weekly?”

“Yeah, that works. I’ll try not to trash the place.”

Ray giggled. “I think that would drive  _you_  crazier than it would me.”

Joel sulked as Ray spun his keys on his thumb. The silence hung in the air for a moment before Joel spoke again.

“Next Friday, then?” He looked up to see Ray nod contentedly as his fingers found the handle of the door. He sent a small smile back in Joel’s direction as the older man made his way over to the entryway.

“Next Friday,” he confirmed. He opened the door, snickering as Joel moved out of the warm air that blew through the doorway. Their eyes met one last time, and the way Ray’s heart soared was enough to nauseate him if it had been anyone else.

“Good night, Joel.”

But Joel’s smile before the door swung shut was totally worth every ounce of cheesy he’d been feeling. God damn, that guy could probably light up a room, and somehow, Ray really wanted to stick around to find out.

“Good night, Ray.”


	2. first contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, he did get his number after all, so would you blame him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone feels skimped, I just wanted to clarify that the following chapters are going to follow a short/long pattern I've set up with the first two. 
> 
> But in any case, fear not, as things are about to get very, very interesting.

Ray had finally worked up the nerve to send a message to the number whose slanted figures - pale and faded, but still definitively present - sat on his skin like ghosts from Friday. He'd taken a chance, in a way, with a text he'd sent about an hour after he'd typed it out and proofread six dozen times.

But after he'd managed to finally pin down his aversion to sending the damn thing and mostly silenced his shrieking insecurities in that hour, he'd pressed 'send' on the premise that he was young enough to justify a 'fuck it' walk through life. At the very least, that is, in times like these.

 

_so i think i'm gonna make it my personal mission to get your place a little more, uh, inhabitable.  
_

 

**_Watch it, kiddo, bet your parents didn’t raise you to knock people’s impeccable sense of interior design._**

  
  
Ray snickered when his phone lights up with Joel’s reply. Yes, as if there had been any doubt in his mind, that was definitely him. He didn’t even know Joel texted, but he had figured the older man wasn’t  _that_ behind. He tapped out a reply of his own with a roll of his eyes.

_this isn’t an insult, it’s me acting on a moral obligation to keep you out of a cave_

**_How am I going to continue avoiding the light of day? And don’t tell me you’re going to start opening my curtains._ **

****

_might start adjusting your thermostat. you realize it’s possible to survive in above freezing conditions, right?_

**_DON’T TOUCH MY THERMOSTAT._ **

**_  
_**

_mostly kidding. ;) can’t tamper with your lair too much, can we?_

_  
_

**_No. Please leave me to suck the souls from children in frigid peace._ **

**_  
_**

_i KNEW it. help, my client feeds on the happiness of the living!_

 

**_Careful, or you might be next._ **

****_  
  
_

_is that a threat or a promise?_

 

**_Both. Promise they won’t hear you screaming. No touchy._ **

_oh, you’re making me really want to touch it_

 

**_I dare you. If I find it raised even by one degree, you’re done for._**

**_  
_**

_oooh, joelsy, you tempt me so. don’t you have work to do?_

_  
_

**_Always. Don’t you?_ **

_  
_

_off work today and in class now, actually. fuuuck school before lunch_

_  
_

**_Class counts as work…_ **

  
_hmmm yep, makes sense for you to be an academic type with all your nuances  
_ _…wait a sec, you’re not a prof, are you_

 _  
_**_Good question. I’ll leave you to ponder that answer while you pay attention in class._ **

 

Oh, now  _that’s_  an interesting picture. Certainly contrary to being productive in class, by all means. Ray bit back a smile before glancing at the clock.

 

_excellent try. joke’s on you, professor, class ends in six minutes :D_

_  
_

**_Six minutes of intense note-taking to make up for dicking around, right?_ **

**_  
_**

_no idea what you’re talking about. i'm such a good wittle boy._

**_  
_**

**_Jesus,_ _you want to warn a guy before you drop a bomb like that during a meeting?_**

_  
_

_didn’t leave you bothered, did it? wouldn’t that be a shame_

_  
_

**_Not. At. All. Certainly didn’t induce a coughing fit._ **

_  
_

_good. had me worried there, mr incorruptible_

 

He didn’t even have to read Joel’s reply to start cackling. He watched the second hand tick its way through the final stretch to 12, and flew out the door practically on wings.

  
  
**_Fucking kids…_ **

_  
_

_see you friday. ;)_


	3. pucker up, marines, we're just getting started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As long as you leave the customer happy,” Joel said, pointing a thumb at himself, “I don’t think it matters what cleaning is actually being done."

The following week, Ray found himself at Joel’s house early. The policy at his place of employment was very thorough about their safety measures, so if clients gave them keys to their homes, they were promptly locked in a safe alongside the signed-away soul of whoever the job belonged to, in case anything were to happen while they were on the clock. The liability box, as they’d taken to calling it.

So when he unlocked the door and was met with a rush of cold air (to which he rolled his eyes) and a definitively silent house, he decided to start on an endeavor he’d started parsing the week before.

Sure, it was weird, but in a totally _not_ weird kind of way. And sure, he’d heard stories about coworkers and their clients, and this definitely fell on the tamer end of the spectrum. But ever since last week, Ray had felt like he’d been floating around on a cloud and couldn’t help worrying it would dissipate beneath his feet the moment he started to question it. The feeling of Joel’s lips on his hadn’t left his mind, and when he’d gotten home that night and the scent of him had rolled off Ray’s skin when he stepped in the shower, he very nearly hit his head against the wall and groaned aloud. He had it _bad_.

And though he really just sent the message to annoy Joel, Ray _did_ take it upon himself to liven the place up, because as much as his apathy took over during other jobs, he found himself looking forward to Friday afternoons in particular because of the slowly fading monochrome. He flitted around the house, placing various objects in their designated places, but the best of his efforts – in his mind, at least – was a vase of roses in the kitchen. He’d decided the place should have some color, since the varying tones of grey made the house look emptier than it was, not to mention more dismal than Joel probably needed. And who doesn’t like roses, right?

It wasn’t too long after that Ray heard a car in the driveway, and a very tired looking Joel trudged in soon afterward, sure enough. He made it through the front hallway and into the living room before abruptly flopping over on the couch, burying his face in the cushions and all but perished on the spot. Ray’s heart lurched when he saw the exhaustion seeping from Joel’s still form, so he made his way over to the sofa and leaned over the back of the piece of furniture, arm dangling over the edge and close enough for his fingertips to brush Joel’s shoulder blades.

“Looks like I was right about you working yourself to death,” Ray declared, giving him a prod with the end of the remote only to receive a swat in response. So he frowned at that, shuffling over to the coffee table and sliding between the space separating the edge of the sofa from the corner of the table. He shook his head as he got closer to the body draped over the furniture, gingerly moving aside the carefully placed briefcase and silently chastising Joel for his stupid goddamned priorities before taking a seat on the glass of the coffee table. “You’re going to mess up your clothes,” he murmured, “and I’m beginning to think you care more about your work than you do yourself.”

Joel inhaled and let out a long, dramatic sigh that sounded more like a strangled moan.

“I could not give less of a _fuck_ about the clothes, Ray,” he groaned, voice muffled between the couch cushions. Ray took it upon himself to poke at him some more with the remote until the swats turned into a one-finger salute and a tired-looking Joel finally emerged from the pillows. “What can I do for you today, sir?” Ray plastered a ridiculously false smile on his face, but Joel raised an eyebrow before Ray realized he probably should’ve been careful with his terminology.

“Sir, huh? So _that’s_ what you’re into.”

He didn’t just sound amused, he sounded _interested,_ and somehow, Joel just didn’t look quite so tired anymore.

_Fuck_.

So Ray shrugged coyly with a grin. “Customer formalities. Don’t look so fascinated.”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, but the intensity of it – or rather, the discerning, smug tinge to the way he held it – disappeared almost as quickly as it had surfaced, and his face lit up with another idea not long after.

“You play Halo?”

Ray looked exceptionally confused.

“Uh.. what?”

“You’re paid by the hour, right?” He reached a hand over, gripping Ray’s chin and nodding his head ‘yes’ for him with a smirk that lingered a little longer than Ray was expecting. “As long as you leave the customer happy,” pointing a thumb at himself, “I don’t think it matters what cleaning is actually being done. Plus, you did fine, _better_ than fine really, last week, and I happen to know you’re working yourself toward expiration, too, thanks to those tired-looking lines under your eyes that shouldn’t show up ‘til after you hit 40. Believe me.” He sends a lazy smile in Ray’s direction as he grabs his wrist, sliding the cool grip of the controller into his hand before moving to the sofa. “So if it suits you, I want to kick your ass at Halo. Want to play?”

He grins as Ray’s apprehensive expression fades to make way for a determined sneer. 

“ _Oh_ , do I.”

(Joel transition!)

The game started out quite cordially, with Ray taking the first few victories very politely, albeit effortlessly. He didn’t want to admit to preemptive overconfidence, but by the end of their third round, he had a hard time believing Joel had played through the game as many times as he’d made it sound like. He was on the verge of beginning to go easy on the older man, but when the fourth round ended in record time and he turned, open-mouthed, to a smirking Joel, Ray was beginning to get convinced that Joel had let him win from some misplaced sense of sportsmanship.

“Some fake-out there.”

“I have no conceivable idea of what you’re talking about, Ray.”

“Biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. What the fuck was _that_?”

“Hey, now, you’re giving me way too much credit. Do you _really_ think I’d sweep the floor with a kid like you?”

The grin on his lips certainly said otherwise, and Ray wasn’t ready to admit he was letting his paranoia get the better of him, but the more flustered he got, the worse of a shot he seemed to prove. They’d moved a little closer in the process of Joel’s repeated victories, and something about the way he watched Ray’s brows furrow and his grip on the controller tighten from the corner of his eye made it ridiculously hard to avoid being sniped.

Fourteen rounds of split-screened, curse-filled, 26th century space insanity later, the two sat 10-4, staring at each other. The two had stretched out on the massive sofa, Joel on one end and Ray occupying the other, and in the process of losing again and again and becoming increasingly frustrated, Ray had wormed his legs between Joel’s own to give him a few jabs for good measure. He called it serving justice, but Joel managed to grab him by the knees a few times and distract him long enough to execute an impressive headshot or two.

The scoreboard on the screen was the only source of light left in the room, but Ray held the gaze of the other like the challenge hadn’t ended. “Must be even more tired than I thought you were,” Joel snickered, to which Ray made a face and tossed his controller on the table.

“Shut up. This disc is apparently rigged in your favor.” Ray shook his head, smile breaking through his façade as he poked Joel’s leg with his foot.

“Hey, when you play as long as I have, you learn all the tricks.”

The younger man rolled his eyes as Joel beamed right back at him. “Rigged, I tell you,” he muttered, before yelping in an exceedingly manly turn of events when Joel moved his legs from his lap. “Coffee?” Joel called, as he trudged into the kitchen and squinted at the burn of the fluorescent light on his eyes used to the dark.

Ray sat up, groaning as his muscles stretched. “Only if you’ve got a shitload of flavor _other_ than coffee to put in it.” A sound of acknowledgement came from the kitchen before Joel returned shortly afterward, bearing two mugs. He padded his way over to the sofa, placing the mug on a coaster before Ray carefully, and promptly straightening up to pelt him with sugar packets and tiny cylinders of creamer. “Better get you caffeinated to actually work, right?” He yelped when Ray gave him a gentle shove, wielding a spoon in defense before gingerly taking a seat beside him, cup in hand.

They sat in silence for a moment before Ray finally decided to speak up.

“So, for all this quality time we’ve been spending together, you never told me what you do for a living. Well, besides vague hints that may or may not have been true.”

Joel frowned into his mug. “What is this, a high school reunion?” He rolled his eyes when Ray stole his spoon. “Let’s just say that if I told you,” he began, “I’d have to –”

“Kill me?” Ray interrupted assuredly, snickering as he swirled the contents of his cup, now a mere bastardization of caffeine and dairy. “That’s a little old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

Joel had a saccharine-sweet smile of his own in response that Ray decided was profoundly unsettling.

“More like sign the paperwork that would liquidate your assets and make you suddenly _very_ popular with the IRS, all before lunch. Lives might not be in my hands, but everything else people hold dear might be.” Ray blinked as Joel quirked an eyebrow in challenge from behind his mug.

“You flatter me,” Ray said with a smile. “I do _this_ for a living.” Joel waved a hand dismissively as Ray rested his chin on his hands, batting his lashes attentively. “So what is it, then? Drug lord? Hedge fund manager? And if it’s neither, do you at least still get to wear a snazzy suit regularly?”

Joel chuckled, and Ray cursed his limited and poorly timed control over the flush in his cheeks.

And the way Joel’s tongue ran across his lower lip when his gaze met his eyes were fairly indicative of the fact that he noticed.

_Fuck._

“I’m still not telling you. But yes, as a matter of fact, I _do_ wear a snazzy suit regularly.” He ignored Ray’s sputtering in favor of leaning across the table for the remote, and switching on the TV. Though as he turned to the younger for a moment, his smile could’ve been mistaken for something less innocent in an instant.

So Ray did all he knew to do in situations like these- he decided to keep talking to prevent him from thinking about it too hard.

“Just tell me. I swear, I won’t tell the feds.” He prodded Joel’s knee in defiance, prompting a scoff from the older man.

“I might, if you weren’t so much fun to fluster. Gets me thinking about what might happen if I _really_ started trying.” His words were amused, and the silent snicker he provided when Ray very nearly gaped at him just made the younger want to drink it up.

However, as soon as the screen was illuminated with the familiar color of sports after a few seconds on the DVR menu, Joel suddenly became very interested in what was on the screen, like the words that just came out of his mouth were merely conversation about the weather. Blinking away the mist that he found suddenly clouding his mind, Ray turned his nose up and went to pick up a basket of cleaning supplies. “Guess that’s my cue to get to work, then,” he declared, hooking the basket beneath his arm and marched over to the window with a feather duster in hand. Joel hardly executed more than about a half of a nod in response, as Ray observed with more disdain than he was comfortable admitting to, and his eyes were glued to the screen by the time he crossed the room.

He knew he could rationalize his way through this, knew that they only had to maintain a relationship amidst formal work boundaries and nothing past it, that Joel had no obligations to him but a check to his employer and as far as the Puerto Rican was concerned, this was simply his work, and nothing more. Wasn’t it?

But fuck, he was spoiled by the attention, and the pang of something that sounded suspiciously like a yank at his heartstrings really should have scared him. He was the one to tell his friends to be careful; to avoid getting invested in things that wouldn’t pay off, and to avoid thinking through their dick.

Problem was that he was beginning to worry he _wasn’t_.

Joel turned on the couch to face the younger man with a frown. “Not a football person, I take it?”

Ray shook his head noncommittally, reaching up to bat at the tops of the windows. “Oh, I am, just not those teams. You are, though?” he asked, more out of a drive to continue the conversation than an interest in the answer. Joel made a noise of indifference, saying something about college and school pride and needing something to talk about at the water cooler, but Ray was moving quickly and was probably paying more attention to the walls than his companion. But before too long, the place began looking in order, and most of the errant objects lying around the house were put back into place.

Soon enough, after a good while of time that both spent preoccupied, they were back in the same room together. At some point, Joel had paused the recording and gone upstairs to change out of his suit, and now sat at rest in the same place donning jeans and a t-shirt. Ray was dusting off the final surfaces he’d missed, serenaded by the occasional and indubitably colorful commentary from Joel on the football match, and eventually all that remained to be dusted was the TV. Unfortunately for Ray – but fortunate for the intended consumer, he supposed – the TV’s dimensions were great for video games, but a little larger than ideal for his height.

So Ray swore and stood on his toes to reach behind the entertainment center, stretching for all he was worth and not realizing where he was extended before he heard an amused drawl from the sofa.

“You’re blocking the game.”

Rolling his eyes, he waved a hand in Joel’s direction dismissively, hardly giving it any thought. “Your fault for asking me to dust.” He swiped a cloth over the back of the flatscreen, grimacing as a layer of dust flew into the air. “Here I was thinking it was your job to clean, not verbally harass your clients and keep them from their programming,” Joel countered, prompting a bark of laughter from Ray.

“Careful, someone might think you’re being racist.” He hopped up on one foot to bat at the dust that had collected on the top of the monitor, paying no mind to the static picture below him or the soft chuckle from behind him.

Well, he thought it’d been innocent enough.

“You know, come to think of it, I’m liking the view.”

And if that was bait, Ray took it hook, line, and sinker.

Ray paused, sticking a feather duster in his back pocket before turning with a smirk on his lips to face the highly amused man behind him. “Joel Heyman, you are something else.”

The gaze he was met after Joel’s grin widened with could’ve been mistaken for absolutely vile, if he’d lingered too long.

“I’d wager it was your little ruse to distract me.”

Ray rolled his eyes at that. “Right. Congratulations, you’ve uncovered the master plan.”

Joel shook his head disapprovingly at Ray’s flat tone, hands moving to rest behind his neck while he stretched his legs out.

“Well, unfortunately for _you_ , my dear Ray,” he sighed, pointedly relaxing into the sofa and moving his gaze around Ray’s lanky form to the picture in motion behind him, “I have more self-control than that.”

Ray cocked an eyebrow.

“Do you?”

Joel’s teeth flashed when he laughed.

“I do.”

Then again, no harm in testing it since he was so certain, right?

So Ray sighed in defeat, putting his palms up toward Joel in mock surrender. “Well, if it won’t phase you, then I guess there’s no use in –”

He feigned a shocked expression when his feather duster tumbled from his back pocket – a guise which he _knew_ , to his delight, looked obviously manufactured after Joel visibly tensed. His gaze landed on the fallen item innocently, and he let out a short ‘tsk’ before returning his eyes to Joel, who was beginning to look less at ease though his composure was well-kept.

For now.

So, after meeting Joel’s eyes coyly, Ray turned around to face the illuminated monitor and promptly bent over.

He angled his frame to bend at 90 degrees, fingers extending to brush the floor before his unsuspecting audience before curling around the rod. But before straightening up again, he shot a glance over his shoulder, just slightly, enough to see Joel fold his arms, sit up a little straighter, and tip his head back in – ah, was that anticipation?

But even if he willed it – focused his entire mind on something other than the dark eyes dragging down his lean frame, or the pause in the man’s throat as his expression flickered with obscene voracity in an instant– Ray absolutely couldn’t do anything to stop the smirk from tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wiggled his hips at the other.

“Just gonna ogle me, huh?”

Joel laughed, but his gaze didn’t waver for a second – no, he just observed with zeal, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and letting his lips curve into a twisted smile before offering a reply.

“Absolutely.”

This was a game, but not one like Halo; no, this one was palpable, featuring an external force that he could touch and feel and _want_ , and if Joel was the name of the game, Ray didn’t know if he wanted to win or allow Joel the victory instead.

All he knew was that he wanted to get a taste of the spoils, and he had a feeling Joel did, too.

So he stood up, walked straight up to the man before him, and took a gamble.

“Well, with the way you’re staring, I’m guessing that’s not all you want to do.”

He saw the gears in Joel’s mind process a course of action for all of about four milliseconds before he lunged forward with something of a growl.

Ray made a soft noise of surprise at the initial contact, the set of hands grasping at his hipbones and tugging him forward before he landed atop the pair of legs, knees on either side of Joel’s and arms extending out to catch himself on the back of the sofa. He hadn’t thought out the simple action as far as he probably should have, but he definitely didn’t expect _that._ So as he regained the breath that caught in his throat as he fell, and moved his head back to look Joel in the face, he hardly had time to catch his racing thoughts before there were fingers laced in his beltloops and lips ghosting against his neck. “If you’ve got complaints, you might just have to not pull little stunts like that,” Joel whispered, words vibrating against his skin, and oh god, between his words and the growing bulge that he could feel every inch of beneath him, it felt like he’d been lit on fire.

Ray’s fingers flexed, arching into Joel’s body like it had been sculpted to fit and managing to murmur a brief “have to keep ‘em guessing” before he ground his hips down on Joel’s own, _hard_. He heard a quick intake of breath beneath him before he felt long fingers snaking up his sides beneath his shirt, and a humored noise reverberate against his collarbone when he moved into the touch. “Like that, huh?” the older breathed, and Ray could’ve whimpered in response. One hand made it up to the other side of Ray’s neck, tugging his head to the side to press open-mouthed kisses up his throat with an occasional graze of teeth, while the younger decided that yes, this had definitely blossomed into a wonderful idea.

The sound of the television had faded to a forgotten, dull drone in the background, the air instead being filled with breathy gasps as Joel’s tongue reached Ray’s jawline. Ray was as malleable as clay beneath Joel’s fingertips, not to mention his _tongue,_ and judging by the erection he felt straining against Joel’s jeans when his own fingers slid between their hips, Joel was equally intrigued. The man beneath him made a humored noise at the contact before rolling his hips against Ray’s, offering a very explicit idea of what Ray wanted to get his hands on so desperately and just how hard it was, and whether it had been Joel’s intention or not, anything between their two bodies but skin and body heat was making Ray’s fingers itch.

He managed to tip his head back when Joel’s ministrations let up for a moment, moving to glance at the man beneath him. Their eyes met, and the sight of Joel, slightly breathless and gaze fervent to the point of magnetism, was enough to give Ray the nerve to bring his lips to brush against Joel’s own. “It has to be illegal for you to feel so good,” he sighed against his lips, smiling as Joel reacted to the words like they were a defibrillator. He pulled Ray forward into a messy kiss, groaning into his mouth when Ray’s fingers crept across his shoulders and down his back. He rocked against Joel’s hips once more to pull another delicious gasp from his throat, to feel his fingers dig into his skin a little tighter, and to grin into the kiss when his hands slid from Ray’s waist to his ass.

A phone buzzed on the coffee table, which Joel evidently made a point to ignore by the way his arms wrapped around Ray’s torso, but when the consecutive buzzes that indicated a call just kept sounding until the count reached four, his eyes finally cracked open in irritation. His hands tightened on Ray’s hips, and Ray’s breath was staggered before he spoke.

“Mm, that could be important,” he murmured against Joel’s lips, prompting a sharp exhale and a slightly hazy glare from the older man. “If I ignore it, it will go away,” he ground out, before the phone lit up in defiance and began buzzing again.

And though Joel had made no move to answer, Ray decided to leave with the upper hand.

He sat back in Joel’s grasp, stretching his arms in weariness. “But since you won’t tell me what it is you do all day, I’ll just have to assume it’s important.”

Before Joel could yank him back on the couch, Ray had already taken advantage of his lapse in focus and moved out of his reach. And he looked utterly stupefied as Ray rose, hiking up his shorts with a wink as Joel’s expression flickered with understanding.

“You little _tease_ ,” Joel hissed, incredulity in his expression and fire in his eyes.

It took all Ray had in him not to break, so he just smiled right back.

“Just because I’m a ridiculously good influence on you doesn’t mean you need to throw around bad names.”

Joel’s leer was entirely shameless. “ _Influence_? That’s what the kids are calling it these days?” He crossed his arms, standing to match Ray’s stance as he bit his lip with a flicker of astonishment. “I’m thinking you’re a ridiculously good something else on me,” he murmured, eyes moving down Ray’s frame and returning to his flushed cheeks in time to see the younger take in a quick breath.

His phone buzzes again, and Ray’s pretty sure he’s growling. It looks like his grit teeth are going to crack under the pressure.

“Don’t linger on it,” Ray whispers. He ran a hand through his hair as Joel finally answered the call with the most sickeningly sweet ‘hello?’ he’d heard anyone ever greet a conversation partner with, and very nearly giggled when Joel immediately pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Out of courtesy, he began cleaning up the remnants of cleaning supplies around the room so as to not listen in on the discussion, but when he straightened the pillows on the sofa around Joel, he received a stare so intense it could’ve burned holes. He snickered, dodging a pillow that Joel hurled in his direction before the older man begrudgingly sat up and moved to his laptop, phone held between his shoulder and his cheek. When the call ended, Joel let the phone slip from his grasp, landing with a solid _thump_ on the carpet when his hand came to rest across his face.

“You are _so_ very lucky you’re cute.”

“Why? Kill wasn’t clean enough?”

Joel’s laugh was humorless.

“You’re funny.”

“Don’t forget extremely good looking.”

His eyebrows were knitted, and Ray made his way over to the sofa in hopes of not leaving the man in a heap of undue stress.

“Work never ends,” Joel mused exasperatedly, shaking his head before Ray’s guilt got the better of him and he moved in front of Joel’s place on the couch.

“Do your work, and I’ll see you next week, when you hopefully don’t look like you want to murder someone.” He didn’t give himself time to hesitate before he pressed a kiss to Joel’s tight expression, relief flooding his senses when the tension in Joel’s muscles relaxed. When he pulled back, Joel let out a sharp breath, lazy smile beginning to tug at his lips.

Ray managed to drag himself from the familiar, welcome heat of Joel’s body, finally reaching the door though it did take a great deal of motivation, and turned only when he heard a drawl pervade the room behind him and quite nearly making him stop dead in his tracks.

“I’m gonna get you back for doing this to me.”

Ray blew him a kiss as soon as he got the door open.

“ _Please_ do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't take sides just yet. x)


	4. left, right, b, a ... fuck, what was that next part?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this was a competition, which it had quickly spun into, does indulging in the thrill of the chase really count for victory?

Ray awoke that night to the sound of his phone vibrating its way off of his nightstand. With a groan, he swung his arm out to catch it, dragging it up to his face to offer a sleepy ‘hello?’ before he was met with a gruff, familiar voice.

“You’ve got about fifteen seconds to explain to me why I just found rose petals between my sheets.”

His expression split into a grin, and suddenly, Ray didn’t feel so tired anymore.

“Oh, you found them?”

“Twelve, eleven, ten…”

He sighed, tugging his lip between his teeth in a smile. “Made you think of me, didn’t it?”

The receiver caught the sigh that passed from Joel’s lips and the amused hum that came afterwards.

“Yeah, it did, but maybe I was already thinking of you. You didn’t make it particularly difficult with that grand exit of yours.”

Ray snickered, rolling onto his side.

“And you’re going to  _bed_  thinking of me? You make me blush.”

A laugh.

“More like getting out of the shower thinking of you, actually.”

Alright, maybe Ray deserved this, and he hadn’t really been expecting anything less when he’d pulled the door to Joel’s bedroom open that day, but  _this,_ this was unfair on all sorts of levels. It was beginning to look like things may have backfired, and Joel  _knew_ his finger was right above the button to leave Ray writhing in his palms. He could practically see Joel’s teasing grin from the way his voice had dipped; one he knew so well, a smile that emerged when Joel knew he was winning and that there wasn’t a thing Ray could do about it except let it pull him in like the tide.

Though by the time Ray had spun together about four words of a retort, Joel spoke up again.

“But you probably wouldn’t be interested in hearing about  _that_. I got what I needed, so I’ll let you go back to sleep, you conniving little brat.”

When Ray started sputtering, he swore he could hear that grin in Joel’s voice.

“And blush harder, because oh my  _god_  is it fucking cute.”

“What?!  _Joel!_ ”

“Sleep well, good night!”

Ray’s words caught in his throat as he was met with a click and the flat tone of the receiver, indicating the call had ended. He looked at the blinking time stamp on the screen for a good minute and a half before tossing the phone at his nightstand and flipping onto his back with a sigh, a smile fighting to overtake his features.

He had been out to win the game they played from the start, but now he was beginning to think Joel was too much fun to want to beat.


	5. hold my limits at gunpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fruit-scented (flavored?) soap, Chinese food, and good, old-fashioned revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're experiencing a condition like 'nauseatingly cutesy-domestic', it's always best to counteract the symptoms with a healthy dose of 'reverting to teenage hypersexuality', right?

On the third week Ray was called to (for work purposes, but really, Ray preferred “happily found himself at”) Joel’s house, he let himself in once more to begin flitting around the house, placing various things he’d found during the week on counters and tabletops, only to find a new vase of roses in the kitchen.

He picked up the piece of paper stuck haphazardly beneath the vase, expression cracking into a smile at the words scrawled upon it.

_Stop leaving flowers, it makes me feel obligated not to let them die, and I hate obligations. Sadly, they only last a week anyway, so the new ones are for you. -Joel_

“What’s with you and roses, anyway?”

Ray turned with a start to see Joel in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe. “Relatively cheap household weapon,” he affirmed with a shrug. “And they brighten up the room.”

Joel shook his head, snickering as he padded over to the kitchen. “How innovative.” He swung the pantry door open and dug around inside for a moment as Ray began Windexing the counters, returning with a piece of bread dangling from his mouth. Ray happened to glance up as Joel was closing the door with a foot, the loaf in one hand and a jar of peanut butter in the other, and sighed exaggeratedly at the sight.

“Have something against eating properly, do you?”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he frowned around the slice.

“Wha’?”

“There’s something inherently wrong with eating Wonder bread and Elmer’s Glue with a fucking protein boost as frequently as you seem to.” Ray crossed his arms, looking on as menacingly as he could muster as Joel removed the bread from his mouth and sat it atop the bagged loaf. “I am a grown-ass man, Ray, and I refuse to take dietary recommendations from the likes of you.”

Ray aimed the spray bottle to point at Joel’s chest in response, drawing a skeptical look focused on his trigger finger from the older man as he snickered.

“Oh, well, you’ve certainly convinced me,” Joel mused, tinges of sarcasm hanging off his words teasingly.

Ray sighed as he lowered the Windex bottle to the counter. “Look, I’m here to help you get your life together. It’s Friday night and you’re about to settle for peanut butter and jelly.”

“Actually, I’m out of jelly.”

Joel beamed as Ray looked on, unimpressed, before speaking up again.

“I can make something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m adaptable. What do you have?”

“No, no, not what I meant– I’ll just order Chinese,” Joel began, adding in a quick “with _vegetables_ ” upon receiving an ardent glare from Ray, but quickly waved away the temporary deviation from his intended train of thought. “No, I meant, just… _what_?” He peered at Ray curiously, prompting an eyebrow raised defensively from the younger man. “You clean, you play video games with vicious levels of intensity, and now you cook...” He pinched the bridge of his nose contemplatively, running the hand around the back of his neck in thought. “Anything else I should know about before I fall in love with you?”

He’d said it in jest, the humor in his eyes said it all. Just a joke, nothing more, but the words made Ray’s stomach flip, though he cursed it because Jesus, he wasn’t a fucking _kid._

But nonetheless, Ray’s teeth flashed when he grinned back.

“A case could be made to say I’m a fantastic kisser.”

Ray had turned around and began spritzing the counters again before Joel could think of something witty to say in response, but his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he heard what Ray murmured afterward, practically to himself but just loud enough for the other to hear.

“I’ll leave it to you to decide if I mean above the waist or below.”

Joel was already intrigued, and he knew Ray knew that, but that sentence and the heat it sent through his veins just wrapped it all up into one incredibly desirable package that had already been considering to be a bit more profound than a one or two time thing.

“I’m going to take a shower before this gets any more interesting.”

Ray hummed in acknowledgement, likely because he figured he’d won this round. And Joel’s smile was fiendish because he wasn’t done with him, no, not in the slightest.

“But I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Ah, _there_ it was.

He watched as Ray paused in his work, arm still extended, and turned with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Waving the bottle, he leaned back on the counter. “I’ll be here. Wouldn’t want to slack off on the job.”

Joel was trying ridiculously hard to not falter over the fact that this kid, this devastatingly attractive exemplar of a human being standing right in front of him, was flirting with him outright. To put it _lightly_. For the third week in a row.

And so as to prevent the words from falling from his lips faster than he could stop them, Joel hightailed it to the bathroom after smacking a relatively unsuspecting Ray on the ass with an errant, rolled-up morning edition of the Wall Street Journal he’d pulled from the table nearby.

It wasn’t long after Ray heard the water start flowing through the pipes when a soft noise of surprise resonated from the bathroom, and Ray fought the laughter surging up in his throat like his life depended on it. Not too long after that, though, he heard the door thrown open, and bare feet tearing through the hallway and down the stairs at Mach 5. Joel rounded the corner in a towel, and it was all Ray could do to not double over with laughter when he saw the pink suds still sticking to Joel’s hair. “Did you leave fucking _watermelon_ -scented soap in my shower?” Joel’s tone was incredulous, but his arms were crossed haughtily, and the entire show of it all was too ridiculous to ignore. Ray shrugged innocently, turning back to the sink to finish wringing out the cloth. “Shampoo, actually,” he corrected. “I told you I was going to breathe life into this house, and, uh… watermelon smells fantastic.”

Joel lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, _please_ , you just wanted an excuse to get close enough to sniff me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Ray murmured, turning to face him with a twist of a smile and chuckling as Joel threw his hands in the air, defeated.

“Oh my god, we’re living together.” The words were feather light, and the amused, knowing look that began to grace Joel’s features made Ray start to wonder if it really _was_ only a joke.

So the younger man bit back a smile as he tamed his own expression into something dead serious.

“Don’t forget to rinse and repeat, honey.”

And Ray cackled as he watched Joel sulk his way back to the bathroom.

The delivery finally came a while after he’d returned from upstairs, and Joel had convinced Ray to indulge – albeit begrudgingly – after repeatedly poking him with a set of chopsticks for the better part of ten minutes. They sat together in his living room, Ray occasionally making half-hearted attempts at getting up and, you know, getting actual _work_ done, but Joel simply wouldn’t have it and managed to keep him in his place each time without fail. They spent a good amount of time in friendly debate over technology – a conversation that lent itself to the digital era and eventually led to discussing the stock market, which Joel quickly stopped himself from detailing, Ray noted with interest – and the rest of the time filling the room with strings of profanity after one of them decided to switch on Joel’s Xbox.

After a period of silence and a lull in conversation as the screen fell dark, Ray got up and moved to put the take-out boxes in the refrigerator. Joel turned to look over at him with a face that was relatively unreadable from Ray’s periphery.

“Been thinking.”

“Hm?”

“For a glorified maid, you sure as hell don’t look like one.”

And Ray huffed at that, putting down the boxes and turning to face Joel with something of a scowl. “Yeah? What does a maid look like?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, as the older man’s interest in the subject _really_ whirred to life, eyes wide and a disbelieving expression threatening to overtake his features with the crazy grin that had been set into motion, and Ray tried his damndest to will away the flush that came to his cheeks under the sudden burning gaze.

“No, no no no,” Ray started, backpedaling frantically when the less-than-innocent implications of his statement hit him like a train. “No fucking way. I didn’t … I’m not a _maid_! Sure, I clean your house, but I’m not… I swear to fucking Christ, Joel, don’t leer at me like that!” His sputtering ended in a high-pitched whimper as Joel rose and moved his arms from the back of his chair, taking a step toward him.

“It can be arranged.”

Ray pointed a wavering finger as his offensive, scrambling for words while he slid back a step equal to Joel’s stride.

“ _What_ can be arranged?”

And Joel had voracious amusement in his eyes, if amusement was the right way to describe the way a cat looked at a mouse.

“Looking the part.”

Another step.

“You’re _sick_.”

Another.

“Try and tell me you wouldn’t enjoy it too.”

“Enjoy what, the breeze? No. Forget it.”

In a sudden shift of limbs, Joel was suddenly _very_ close, so close Ray could feel his own senses getting themselves drunk in the sensation the older man was sending through his entire consciousness. He held his gaze while his eyes flicked between Joel’s own, taking it like a dare on which he’d bet everything, though his breath threatened to catch in his throat all the while.

And oh my god, he wanted to close the hair’s breadth of distance remaining between their two heated bodies so badly it was near painful.

Joel tapped his chin in mock thought before his gaze returned to Ray’s.

“Maybe I’d get you to do the floors with a toothbrush, bent over with your ass in the air.”

Both Ray’s eyebrows shot up at that, and Joel could’ve sworn he saw him swallow thickly before he backed up so fast that he hit the coffee table. With a wince, he shifted on his feet, struggling to keep calm under the scrutiny he was being subjected to, but he was getting hard quicker than he could think himself through and it was proving difficult enough not to initiate something, _anything_ , right there, even if it meant dropping to the floor before him outright.

“You are incredible,” he breathed. “Not to mention depraved.”

Joel simply observed the wide-eyed mess before him through darkened eyes, deciding to close the gap between them while Ray all but whimpered, though he didn’t dare look away. His eyes flitted one to the other, Joel’s own stare unwavering to the point of being hypnotic.

“You’d look good like that, you know.”

The sneer he wore was downright predatory, and the thumb that settled at Ray’s hip beneath the fabric spoke volumes for all Joel had opted not to say.

“Like _what_ , exactly,” Ray ground out, though he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

And Joel didn’t miss a beat, keeping that twisted grin that would’ve sufficed in pinning him to the spot without the reinforcement.

“Down on your hands and knees. In _lace._ ”

The nervous laugh that Ray didn’t try harder to stop betrayed him.

“Good thing I’m not the one salivating over it.”

And the look in Joel’s eyes held desire that was almost palpable, his words a hiss that hit Ray’s ears clear as day, where every syllable echoed in his mind like the only sound he’d ever heard.

“You sure about that?”

That was it. He was close enough to feel the pulse from Joel’s body, but wanted it even closer, and if it shut him up and brought the flush on his cheeks back down to room temperature, well, that was even better.

So he pulled Joel forward by the collar, tugging him down to crash his lips against his own, and the subsequent click of teeth alongside the tension that surged through Joel’s fingers was almost angry. He wanted to be pulled along with every movement like he was caught in a tide, and groaned against impossibly soft lips while Joel’s grip pressed at his sides. Joel walked Ray backward to the nearest wall, hoisting him up between his knee and paint that they both couldn’t care less about scuffing up, to which Ray contributed by wrapping his arms around Joel’s neck and not bothering to stop a low moan for good measure.  Joel met the resultant whimper at the way he pressed himself forward with a chuckle, happily swallowing the airy ‘fuck you’ Ray breathed half-heartedly against his lips. The fist curled in his shirt only tightened when Joel’s mouth trailed along his throat to suck a dark mark into the pale ridge of his collarbone, moving back up to bite at his lips after he was satisfied with his good work and Ray had been reduced to panting, his grip searching for purchase anywhere he could find skin. ~~~~

But the moment Ray’s fingers slid beneath fabric, Joel’s grip relaxed, and he felt the faintest of self-indulgent smiles against his mouth when Ray pulled himself back in close. Ray could’ve _snarled_ at him, and he moved alongside him like a lost puppy in an attempt to maintain the contact. Joel didn’t allow him the liberty, though, and Ray had a feeling he was going to like the way that teasing smirk looked even less than he liked the feeling of its absence from his own lips.

“It’s late,” Joel whispered across his skin, smiling as Ray released him, dumbfounded. “Besides, no use in corrupting your delicate little mind with my depravity, hm?” He ran his fingers through Ray’s hair tenderly, smile widening at Ray’s stewing frustration before tightening his grip and pressing his mouth to Ray’s ear, hissing out words that nearly made Ray’s legs turn to gelatin.

“Consider this payback.”

Ray leaned back slowly, cheeks still flushed and lips parted in disbelief. “ _Who’d_ you say the tease was, again?” He wanted to kiss that stupid fucking smirk clear off Joel’s lips, but by a superior demonstration of self-control urged on by his frustration with the older man, he managed to refrain. Joel hummed thoughtfully, turning on his heel before slipping around the corner and retrieving Ray’s keys. By the time he came back with a hop in his step, Ray had mostly straightened his stance and managed to look slightly less disarrayed, and the gears in his mind had already started turning to the tune of revenge.

His keyring dangled on Joel’s thumb, extended toward him like a proposition for a cease-fire.

“Same time next week?” Joel’s voice held no trace of any ulterior motives or allusions, but there was fire burning in his eyes and Ray could see it, practically feel it, and all he wanted to do was feed that flame.

And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

“Absolutely,” he said, voice bright and expression brighter. He took his keys from his hand, fingers brushing against Joel’s for perhaps a moment longer than they needed to and the taste of his lips lingering on his own perhaps a moment longer than he’d expected. They said their good nights as Ray collected the rest of his things, but before he passed through the doorway, he reeled an unsuspecting Joel in close for a final kiss, swallowing Joel’s whimper with gusto. He winked as he pulled the door shut behind him.

He ran a hand through his hair and pulled a deep drag of night air through his lungs before hopping down the steps.

Next week couldn’t possibly come fast enough.


	6. playing it safe was overrated from the start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Text message received Friday, 1:08pm. [open]/[ignore]

_can i meet up with you sometime this afternoon to pick it up?  
SHIT THAT WAS FOR SOMEONE ELSE SORRY_

**_Kids these days. Don’t get me involved in your drug deals._ **

****

_BLAZE IT. hahaha  
(fear not, it’s not a drug deal and i am an ADULT)_

**_That just couldn't sound any more suspicious. So much for being a good boy._ **

****

_only when you call me one._

**_Behave._ **

****

_yes, sir._

**_RAY._ **

****

_nah, good boy, we’ve talked about this ;)_

**_Oh yeah. Completely nonpareil._ **

****

_i love it when you use big words._

**_Consider it a stress response._ **

_not stressed, are you?_

**_Distracted._ **

_shame on you, letting yourself get distracted at work_

_**Shame on ME? And not distracted to the point of inefficiency quite yet.** _

_is that a challenge?_

**_I think you’d treat it as one even if I were to say no._ **

_you know me so well <3 when are you coming home from work, snookums?_

**_Probably 5:30 if circumstances play nice, dearest. Why?_ **

_wanted to get there a little early cause your floors are looking grungy. mostly to make sure I wasn’t gonna walk in on you naked. unless, you know, you’re into that kind of thing_

**_Should I be flattered that you think I strut around with no clothes on? Or that you think about me with no clothes on?_ **

_you don’t make it hard, I think your teenage testosterone really must have pooled in your brain and turned all your vocabulary to sexual innuendo_

**_Incorrect, as I therefore WOULD make it hard._ **

_oh my GOD_

**_;)_ **

****

_you’re hopeless. 5:30 it is, plan on me beating you there_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder- what exactly was it that Ray needed from the other party he was supposed to be texting?
> 
> Guess we'll have to find out.


	7. grip my controller like a plane in takeoff, baby, because i'm about to take you for a ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was anything that made all the doubts I had go away, it was the look on your face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final installment! Buckle your seatbelts, because that 'explicit' rating up there is finally about to get used and abused.

Ray couldn’t believe he was doing this.

If someone had told him at the beginning of all this that he’d end up here, now, like _this,_ and watching himself flush at his own reflection, he would have laughed in their face.

And yet, here he was.

Thank heavens he had friends in the theatre department that weren’t too terribly prone to investigating strange requests.

He tried to walk himself through the process as gently as possible, and in all manners of that word, _gently_. The stockings alone had been a piece of work in themselves, and took him a solid ten minutes to tug over his legs simply to avoid tearing holes in them. He’d opted for modest shoes, though heels were still heels – and to his chagrin, he was still wobbly after a good while of pacing across his kitchen. And now, as he tugged his lower lip between his teeth contemplatively, watching himself sideways in _Joel’s_ mirror and pulling at the lace hugging tightly to his hips, he tried his damndest to keep his heart from racing clear out of his chest.

Maybe the French maid jokes were a little more applicable now, since he was staring his reflection – the figure in the mirror wearing tulle-lined satin, black and white, and a fierce blush that added a good amount of color to the ensemble – in the eyes.

He smoothed out the folds in the apron, and _really_ couldn’t believe he was doing this.

But the adrenaline high he was getting from the sheer excitement of it – the thought of seeing the reaction, _his_ reaction, certainly notwithstanding – was definitely making it seem like a good idea.

Ray bit back a smile as he heard a shuffle at the door and a jingle of keys, as if on cue, and turned around just in time to watch the door handle turn.

Joel had a briefcase in one hand and a manila folder in the other, twisting acrobatically through the entryway in an attempt to maneuver his way through the door on only his left foot. When he finally made it in through the foyer, Ray silently thanked any deity that may have been listening for the lack of a standardized casual Friday at Joel’s firm, because if his work attire was really spiraling downward into the realm of this godforsaken costume, he was allowed to admire Joel in a suit. And he looked _damn_ fine in that one. Beyond the hair that defied gravity, he could definitely clean up, and always managed to come back entirely – temptingly – unmussed.

So it was safe to say he’d certainly dressed the part.

He watched Joel kick the door shut, walk into the living room, and even take a stab at conversation before he finally glanced up.

And Ray honest to God just couldn’t help the catlike smile that pulled at his lips once he did.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so ear– ”

Joel froze in place, not even bothering to finish his sentence as he lurched to a complete standstill. The stack of papers in the folder immediately slipped from his grasp, fluttering through the air and succumbing to chaos, ending up strewn across the front hallway. His eyes were wide, very wide, and his gaze was entirely transfixed on Ray, who was toying with the hem of the skirt and staring straight back.

“What, lost your tongue?” He crossed his arms, tilting his head with a smile as he watched Joel’s eyes travel straight down his form.

It took a few seconds before Joel made an attempt at picking his jaw up from the floor. “Y-you... you’re…” Joel faltered, mind searching for words that failed to present themselves despite a well-placed shot at coherency, because oh my _god,_ Ray was standing in front of him in stilettos and lace. His legs went on forever, which had been a theory that Joel was eager to gather evidence for testing beyond conjecture, and _how_ had he managed to keep his hands off of him this long, exactly?

“Figured I’d finally dress the part. Didn’t think you’d mind,” he said, shrugging casually with a glimmer of defiance in his eyes. To that, Joel swallowed hard, stifling a distressed noise that sounded like a whimper.

And Ray just ate up the attention like he’d been born to put on a show.

“And you know, you were right. I think I _do_ enjoy it.” Ray perched himself on the edge of the sofa and _leered_. He felt Joel’s burning gaze on him, and paired with the desire that was pulsing through his own veins, remaining in control of the situation was becoming increasingly difficult. Not that it would likely be a problem for long.

“So,” he purred, gaze locked on Joel’s own, “what should I do first?”

And the speed his briefcase hit the floor was truly impressive.

Just like that, Joel had flown across the room and wrapped a pair of strong arms around Ray’s waist, hoisting him up against his own. Ray’s fists ensnared themselves in Joel’s suit, one gripping his tie while the other occupied itself in wrinkling the pressed fabric of his shirt, moaning into his mouth at the hands that landed low on his ass and squeezed. “Tell me this isn’t a dream,” Joel gasped when they finally parted, “because I might jump the real you as soon the minute you waltz through that door.” Ray chuckled, drawing a shaky groan from Joel as he nipped at the tip of his tongue. “Want me to pinch you?”

“Mm, no, I’d rather you do something else.” He slid his hands up Ray’s sides, reveling in the writhing mess Ray became in his palms when his muscles tensed and relaxed beneath his skin. “I think I can manage,” Ray panted, “but you’re gonna have to put me down.” And Joel begrudgingly complied, lowering him to the ground and leaving his fingertips in their place beneath Ray’s skirt before Ray put a hand in the center of Joel’s chest and shoved him backward.

He toppled back, landing rather ungracefully on the couch as Ray knelt before him, parting his knees easily and settling between them with a razor smile. Joel’s dazed murmur of ‘sweet fucking _Christ’_ just urged him on, and the warm skin he ached to get his hands on twitched responsively beneath dark fabric just within his line of sight.

So Ray sat back on his haunches and took a brief eyeful of his own. The air around Joel was in a state of entire disarray: between the mess they’d both made of his suit – not to mention his shirttails untucked and top three buttons nearly torn off in the process of their undoing – plus the look of incredulity still lingering across his features, Ray felt thoroughly satisfied that the frills weren’t all for naught. He bit his lip demurely, eyes lit up with mischief as long fingers crept down Joel’s thighs from his knees.

“Long day, right? Might be able to do something about that.”

Joel tipped his head back when Ray’s fingers reached his inner thighs, lips parting to let out breaths that were admittedly more like contented sighs of “oh my _god_ ” as they crept closer to his waistband. Ray watched the strain in his expression, his teeth grit into a snarl and his grip attempting desperately to seek solace on the arm of the furniture, lest it attach itself to Ray and never let go. An extra light brush of his digits against the sleek fabric nearly wrenched Joel off the sofa, jerking him up from his chest, and when his eyes landed on Ray and darted from his lips to the lace sitting against pale skin, he very nearly convulsed.

“If all it took was a costume, maybe I should have done this earlier,” Ray breathed with a trace of laughter, mildly surprising himself with his own forwardness. He hooked a thumb on the button on Joel’s pants beneath his belt and gave a teasing tug or two, watching as Joel’s chest rose and fell. “ _Ray_ ,” he hissed in what he’d maybe hoped to be warning, eyebrows knitting as his eyes fluttered shut.

So Ray moved his hand lower to ghost across his erection, and stamped the most vulnerable, puppyish expression that he could muster all over his face before leaning forward and pressing his open lips to the cloth keeping him from the hard flesh beneath it.

“Come on, Joel,” he whispered, dragging the words out as much as he could, “after all the games we’ve played, I shouldn’t have to tell you to stop holding back when I lace myself up for you to _use_ me.”

That did it. His eyes snapped open, and fixed straight to Ray’s. Oh god.

And it would’ve been an understatement to say Ray only yelped when Joel sat up just as abruptly and grabbed him by the arms.

“There’s plenty of reasons to hold back, sweetheart,” he growled, hiking the younger man up by fixing his grip beneath the juncture of his shoulders and his biceps, “especially since we wouldn’t want to wrinkle the suit, now _would we_?”

He hauled Ray to his feet, fingers taut as he walked him backwards to the desk. It was probably best Joel didn’t care if Ray held himself up at this point, because between the peremptory sharpness in the older man’s voice and everything else that constituted this beautiful, fucked-up tango they were dancing, Ray was pretty sure he’d lose any and every ability to reroute messages to his legs to move. Ray twisted in his arms to avoid the scattered papers, trying his damndest to remain upright in those goddamn heels, but before he knew it, Joel had spun him around and was flush against his back so he could feel _everything_ – including the fact that he was straining near desperately against the suit he was so concerned about, and that the tightness in his fingers was a testament to it.

They’d barely made it to the desk when Joel dragged the chair out from beneath it and replaced its place pressed against the edge with a very flustered Puerto Rican. The glasses were hastily plucked from the bridge of Ray’s nose and slid across the flat top of the desk before he was pinned between the edge of the wood and Joel’s torso, pelvic bone pressing against him and allowing him close enough to feel the contact that might as well have been magnetic from his back straight down to where his ass was pressed to the older man’s hips. Joel grabbed him by the hip and swiftly slid his free hand to the union of Ray’s shoulder blades at the peak of his spine, effectively bending him over the surface with his palm and sending the breath clear out of Ray in a sharp gasp while office supplies were sent in all directions. He hooked his index finger in the elastic of Ray’s fishnets, drawing it back and releasing with an indulgent snap.

Joel’s voice was dangerously low, almost hoarse, and Ray wasn’t sure if it was the words or the intonation that made him dizzy.

“God, _Ray,_ the things I’ve wanted to do to you.”

Ray glanced coquettishly back at the man behind him, turning his head over his shoulder and allowing his eyes to be graced with a very disheveled Joel, whose eyes held a gleam that had evolved into something absolutely wicked – ruminating, perhaps, over all the possibilities laid out before him in a lacy, dolled-up Ray sized package. And Jesus, the suit wasn’t helping, because the commanding presence of the older man donning sharp lines and starched fabric – somehow remaining remotely professional, even after the thorough debauching they’d been subjected to – was enough to reduce Ray to the point of whimpering beneath him, squirming against the counter desperately for the friction he needed so badly.

And sure enough, as his reply to Joel’s words, Ray flattened himself over the tabletop by the command of that look alone, and watched Joel nearly lose it on the spot. His grip tightened, and the tension in those fingers that were clamped tight and ready to spring like a trap might have slipped from notice if it hadn’t been for the way Joel’s breathing staggered. He drew the lace at Ray’s waist through his fingers, tilting his head and letting himself become practically mesmerized by the way it sat so prettily against Ray’s skin.

Like it was _daring_ him to ruin the perfect helixes of fabric at the skirt’s hem, quite honestly.

And the sudden movement at his waist – of Ray grinding his ass back against Joel’s clothed erection enthusiastically, skirt riding up just enough for him to glimpse the pale skin beneath – made Joel really wonder how he’d managed to live so long without indulging in the sight before him with every one of his senses. So when Ray did it again, teasingly gyrating his hips when he pressed himself back into Joel’s hips, he savored the way Ray’s soft laughter gave way to a sharp intake of breath when he returned the favor with enthusiasm.  

He managed to collect most of the fabric fairly easily and hiked it out of the way with a fell swoop, murmuring a simple “spread ‘em” that had Ray capitulating so fast his head nearly spun. If Joel hadn’t become so very interested in the fact that the younger wasn’t wearing underwear, he probably would’ve said something about it, but he certainly didn’t mind, eyebrows jumping up in slight surprise – and judging by the way Ray’s breath caught in his throat when his fingers slid out of sight and brushed at his entrance, neither did he.

Snorting at the slick, noticeable lack of resistance he found, Joel pressed his fingers forward and savored the cry that was pulled from Ray’s throat. “Was this _planned_?” And Ray fell forward at the sudden presence, tossing his head up at the words. “What was I supposed to do while I waited for you to get here?” he offered breathlessly with a sly smile, to which Joel simply curls his fingers without batting an eye and gets Ray grasping at the desk’s edge in a frenzy. “Bet you were thinking about this, what I’d do when I saw you like this,” Joel grit out between breaths, “or maybe about how long it would take before I’d break, bend you over and get you screaming my name.” Ray felt those words go straight down his spine, leaving him clutching at the table and letting Joel wrench moan after helpless moan from his throat as his head spun with want.

It was only after Ray was reduced to a quivering mass of nerves that threatened to slide off the table that Joel removed his fingers with a wet sound that didn’t quite cover Ray’s whimper. “As great as that suit looks on you,” Ray groaned, “I might die if I don’t get into it in the next five seconds.” Joel paused in fumbling with his shirt for a moment upon hearing those words.

“Like the suit, do you? As much as you like dressing up for me?” He leaned down to wrap a hand around Ray’s cock, a motion that was met with a wanton sob as it was paired with the hiss in Ray’s ear. “Makes you feel like you’d do anything I asked, doesn’t it?” Ray affirmed the words by rocking into his grasp, eyes flickering shut when he felt breath on the back of his neck and fingers tugging in the ribbon fastening the back of the costume. It came loose with a good yank from Joel, making the satin trim slide off Ray’s shoulders ever so slightly and exposing the skin underneath. He pressed himself closer, back aligned against Ray’s own and lips brushing against the crook of his neck.

“And if this is any indication,” accentuated with a long tug on his length that made Ray gasp for breath and the trace of a laugh vibrating against his neck, “I’m thinking it makes you feel like a whore that _loves_ taking orders.” He swiped his thumb over the head of Ray’s dick, smearing the bead of precome across the pad, and Ray nearly forgot to breathe when Joel brought it to his own lips and lapped it up with a flash of tongue in his periphery, returning it to wrap around his cock and pulled _hard_ to make up for lost time.

Ray can feel the heat rush to his cheeks as he arches to Joel’s touch, back curved and bowed taut enough to snap, and all he can do is thrust his hips back against Joel’s and pant out a strained ‘Joel, _please_ ’ for mercy before the hand moves from his cock and the form behind him straightens. A buckle is undone, foil is torn, plastic snaps, and there’s finally, _finally_ a slippery presence behind Ray that might as well have administered hypersensitivity like a drug.

Joel moves forward tantalizingly slow, sheathing himself completely to the hilt, but Ray is practically quaking with desire all the while and he _knows_ Joel can feel it. He’s as solid as Ray imagined, maybe even more, and all of him is ridged in the right places, smooth in the rest, and warm and radiant and wonderfully present and holy _shit_ , if he could form any coherent thought in his mind, it would be telling him how much better this was than anything, any fantasy he could’ve ever concocted on his own. A pair of hands slid up his ribs, touch agonizingly delicate against Ray’s skin which just made the contact more electric, before his thumbs move down to hook onto his hips and hold Ray against him with an unyielding grip. Ray tries to move, oh, does he try, with his knees trembling and a moan that falls from his bitten lips that’s more of a plea, a cry for anythingso long as Joel starts moving and gives him _something_.

And if it weren’t for the low chuckle that met his ears right then, Ray might’ve walked away thinking Joel wasn’t something of a sadist.

“Use that pretty little mouth of yours to make _words_ , Ray.”

“You want me to beg?”

An enthused hum came from behind him, right before Joel eased up on his hold of Ray’s hips ever so slightly and pushed forward again, just enough to yank a sob from Ray’s throat.

“I _know_ you can. And I’m waiting.”

He tries to will away the desperation on his tongue, he _really_ does, but his voice betrays him in favor of his base need for something a little more solid, a little less restrained. If he was going to break, he’d be damned if Joel didn’t break right alongside him.

“I need it,” Ray gasped, thoughts coming out as fragmented as they’d formed, “oh my god, I need it so badly, need _you_ so badly, in me, _right now_ , so if you think you can give it to me, do it again, make me scream my fucking lungs raw.”

A pause.

That cocksure bastard knew how to tease, because that pause held all the tension, the weight of all the times cut short, all the instances they’d stared each other in the eyes and dared the other to back down.

His answer was quiet, and absolutely saturated in want.

“You’d better hang on to that desk like your life depended on it.”

And _fuck_ , his voice never sounded hungrier.

The first thrust jolts him forward enough for him to get delicious friction against his own throbbing cock trapped between the table’s surface and his stomach, and between the momentum and the pressure that had been building in Ray’s spine since the second Joel walked in the door, maybe even for _weeks_ , he couldn’t will himself to keep quiet for shit.

“How does it feel, Ray? How do _I_ feel?” His voice was taunting; the question asked not for what the answer would be, but how it would sound. And it was all Ray could do to deliver, so he did, clinging to the desk and not bothering to hold in a throaty cry from the way Joel surged forward, demanding his answer. “So good, oh _god_ , you feel so good,” Ray moaned, fingers arching to grip the table he’d all but melted into. A particularly powerful lunge from behind him sent Ray’s head back, neck arched and lips parted to let his gasps continue to pour out. “I’d wondered what you’d look like spread out underneath me, frilled up like- _fuck_ , just like this, but I didn’t think you had the nerve to do it,” Joel ground out between his thrusts forward, shoving Ray’s hips into the desk and threatening to tear the dainty fabric they’d carelessly pushed aside. “But you didn’t do it _just_ for me, no, it’s too unlike you,” mouth twisting into something of a smirk as he watched Ray’s muscles move beneath his skin, fists tightening and cries falling from his lips as Joel moved to breathe his words on the back of Ray’s neck, “you did it because _you_ wanted it just as much as wanted to see me lose it.”

Even if he were coherent past a world of light and sound and everything _Joel,_ Ray couldn’t tell if the pace he sets is so much fast as it is deep, and he certainly had no complaints either way because the stretch, the contact between the two of them, and the words that the older man crooned above him, that he looked so beautiful from every fucking angle and oh god, he was so goddamn _tight_ and felt so good wrapped around him were enough to make his knuckles turn white and leave him gasping for air. He writhed against the laminate while Joel bit back curses of his own, reaching the perfect pace and driving forward right _there_ to hit the spot that made Ray see stars. The cries of pleasure from Ray’s throat pulled Joel straight to the edge right in time with the man beneath him, losing it entirely when Ray’s grip on the table’s edge faltered and his muscles clenched around the elder while he choked out Joel’s name over and over again. He released Ray’s hips when he felt himself drawing near, only for his hands to land against the tabletop on either side of that beautifully arched back as he rode out the waves.

It took them both a moment to catch their breath, so the room was silent, save for the cyclical inhales and exhales passing between their lips and making their shoulders heave ever so slightly. Joel admired the sight beneath him when he managed to recover a stable grip on reality, and allowed his gaze to drag up and down the gentle curves while Ray stirred.

He looked over his shoulder back at Joel, whose hands were quick to roam Ray’s body again, though this time his touch was feather-light when he withdrew, gathered Ray into his arms, turned him onto his back and, to his delight, pressed a soft kiss to his flushed lips.

He felt the corners of Ray’s mouth turn up, and raised an eyebrow before leaning back. The younger’s eyes were alight with mischief, and he ran a hand down his jaw to rest at the nape of his neck before he finally spoke.

“Maid kink, huh?”

Joel snickered, collapsing in the chair nearby and tugging Ray into his lap. “Not until you walked through my door. I was expecting a cute little grandma, not.. not _you_.” Ray grinned, propping himself up with his elbows on his knees as he kicked off his heels. “Well, I was expecting a cute old man. Looks like I got what I bargained for.”

The older man frowned, squinting at Ray with one eye. “I prefer _experienced._ Don’t make me drop you on this sparkling floor.” He tugged at the mussed tulle beneath Ray’s skirt absentmindedly, yelping as Ray swatted at his hand. And with a grin, Ray shook his head. “At least I know how to keep the damn thing clean,” he murmured, resting his head on Joel’s shoulder while a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

“Yeah, maybe so, but I’m still going to have to fire you.”

Ray took that little comment like a slap to the face. Lurching back, he stared at Joel with his lips parted, dumbfounded. “Sorry, _what_?”

“You’re great with the cleaning thing, really, but I, uh, can’t employ you in good conscience.” Joel ran a hand through his hair, eyes finally meeting Ray’s own after a moment’s hesitation and a flicker of nervousness. “Fuck, I’m terrible at this sort of thing,” he sighed, finally. “I didn’t mean– I didn’t want it to seem sleazy, or sound like.. look, I don’t want you to work for me. I want you to _date_ me. All the perks of having you around are fantastic, but even past all that, even the lace, I don’t care about anything except the fact that it’s you holding it all together. Holding _me_ together, maybe. So you, me, dinner? And if you like it, could this maybe turn into a regular thing?” He chewed his lip, looking minutely unsatisfied with the way the proposition concluded.

And he nearly had a heart attack when Ray simply giggled.

“I don’t think we quite fall under the category of ‘regular’, Joel. In any sense of the word.”

A small smile tugged at Joel’s mouth.

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes, it’s a ‘tell me _when_ ’ _._ ”

“In an hour.”

Ray blinked.

“We’d have to get cleaned up, your suit is in dire straits and – ah!”

Joel was up in a flash before he could finish, hand tugging at Ray’s own and grinning madly while he towed him toward the bathroom. He pressed a kiss to Ray’s confused lips at the first indication of his sputtering, smiling as he relaxed in his arms.

“Oh, I think we can manage.”

 


End file.
